Infinitely Losing My Edge
Yeah, I'm losing my edge.
I'm losing my edge.
The kids are coming up from behind.
I'm losing my edge.
I'm losing my edge to the kids from Honduras and from Delhi.
But I was there.
I was there in 1983.
I was there at the first Art of Noise show in London.
I'm losing my edge.
I'm losing my edge to the kids whose footsteps I hear when they get on the decks.
I'm losing my edge to the internet seekers who can tell me every member of every good group from 1964 to 1972.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Taipei and Sao Paulo.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school New York kids in little jackets and borrowed nostalgia for the unremembered nineties.
I'm losing my edge.
I'm losing my edge.
I can hear the footsteps every night on the decks.
But I was there.
I was there in at the first Suicide practice in a loft in New York.
I was working on the linndrum sounds with much patience.
I was there when Robert Palmer started up his first band.
I told him, "Don't do it that way. You'll never make a dime."
I was there.
I was the first guy playing Zapp to the grime kids.
I played it at the Spitz.
Everybody thought I was crazy.
We all know.
I was there.
I was there.
I've never been wrong.
But I'm losing my edge to better-looking people with better ideas and more talent.
And they're actually really, really nice.
I'm losing my edge.
I heard you have a compilation of every good song ever done by anybody.
Every great song by Harpers Bizarre. All the underground hits.
All The Flesh Eaters tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Roy Ayers record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal punk hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '80s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying a guitar and a clarinet and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Pere Ubu record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your theremin and bought a marimba.
I hear that you and your band have sold your marimba and bought a theremin.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
The Tremeloes,
Eddi Front,
Mission of Burma,
Rotary Connection,
Fluxion,
Kauko Röyhkä ja Narttu,
Altered Images,
The Sonics,
Archie Shepp,
Bobby Hutcherson,
Thinking Fellers Union Local 282,
Pantytec,
Quando Quango,
Crispy Ambulance,
Pet Shop Boys,
Whodini,
Essential Logic,
Kayak,
Simply Red,
Mars,
Unrelated Segments,
Richard Hell and the Voidoids,
Strawberry Alarm Clock,
Bronski Beat,
Dawn Penn,
Max Romeo,
Deakin,
Darondo,
Throbbing Gristle,
Kurtis Blow,
Nirvana,
The Slits,
The Dirtbombs,
The Golliwogs,
The Stooges,
Swans,
The Gories,
Boredoms,
Wire,
Angels of Light & Akron/Family,
8 Eyed Spy,
Young Marble Giants,
Bobby Sherman,
Lindisfarne,
Oppenheimer Analysis,
Eyeless In Gaza,
Bobby Byrd,
Joyce Sims,
Monolake,
Interpol,
Ronan,
Quadrant,
A Flock of Seagulls,
Skaos,
New Order,
Pete Rock & C.L. Smooth,
MC5,
Hot Snakes,
The Doobie Brothers,
JFA,
Camron Feat. Jay Z And Juelz,
Gang Green,
Gil Scott-Heron and Jamie xx, Gil Scott-Heron and Jamie xx, Gil Scott-Heron and Jamie xx, Gil Scott-Heron and Jamie xx.
You don't know what you really want.
You don't know what you really want.
You don't know what you really want.
You don't know what you really want.
You don't know what you really want.
You don't know what you really want.
You don't know what you really want.
You don't know what you really want.
You don't know what you really want.
You don't know what you really want.
You don't know what you really want.
You don't know what you really want.
You don't know what you really want.
You don't know what you really want.
You don't know what you really want.